


All the News That's Fit to Primp

by WellTemperedClavier



Series: Daria in Morrowind [14]
Category: Daria (Cartoon), Elder Scrolls III: Morrowind
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crossover, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-04
Updated: 2020-07-04
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:29:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25059280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WellTemperedClavier/pseuds/WellTemperedClavier
Summary: The Fashion Club decides to expand its presence and gets some unwelcome competition.
Series: Daria in Morrowind [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1454395
Comments: 14
Kudos: 8





	1. Chapter 1

**All the News that’s Fit to Primp**

**Chapter 1**

Sure, things _did_ get cold and all gloomy in autumn, but that wasn’t so bad since at least it gave you an excuse for more layers. And it’s not like Quinn had even _bought_ any new dresses since coming to Morrowind so she needed to mix things up. Like do something about the little flower designs sewn into the upper sleeves of her pink dress, which might’ve been okay back on Stirk but just made her look like a little girl here!

Like always, fashion had a solution. She just needed a mantle to drape over her shoulders. That’d keep her warm and she was sure she could talk mom and dad into letting her buy a new dress for the Old Life Festival in a few months.

But no one ever said choosing the right mantle would be easy.

Quinn stood in front of table displaying the best moth-silk mantles at Kashad’s. The best mantles mom would give her money for, anyway. And it was _definitely_ one of the more fashionable outlets on Silk-hawker’s Street, with clothes from some of the respectable mid-range moth farms back in Cyrodiil, like Tartus and Locutto Silks.

“Guys?” she asked. “Do you think I should get the blue Locutto or the white Tartus silk?”

Satheri was suddenly right next to Quinn, her eyes big and wide. “Oh gosh, that’s really tough. The blue looks cool.”

“Yeah, but my hair would _really_ stand out against the white.”

Satheri pressed her hands into fists. “Oh, this is _so_ tough. Tiphannia?”

But Tiphannia was lost in her own world, like usual, staring at a see-through scarf.

“Tiphannia?” Quinn called. And Tiphannia had totally lived in the Imperial City for a few years so that made her almost an expert in fashion.

“You can like see… right through this,” she said.

Quinn sighed. She loved Satheri and Tiphannia to death, but she was starting to think the Fashion Club needed more than three members. Sure, she totally _knew_ what looked best and what looked lame, but it’d be nice to hear someone besides Satheri agree with her. Not that she didn’t value Satheri’s opinion. But Tiphannia just wasn’t all there.

She finally decided to take a chance and go with the white mantle. If she was going to make a statement, it might as well be a _statement_. Once Quinn bought the mantle, she put it on and headed out with her friends. There’d been a big rainstorm the other day, so they had to lift the hems of their dresses to avoid all the gross puddles.

“It’s so hard to know what to buy,” Satheri complained. “I’m still worried that the fabric I chose is too thin for this cold weather.”

“Lighter is better because you can always double-layer!” Quinn proclaimed, taking the wide way around a cart to avoid getting splashed.

“You’re so smart, Quinn!”

She _was_ wasn’t she. Quinn drew herself up. “I just wish there was some way for us to tell everyone else what to buy to look their best. I mean, nobles get the best stuff because they’re like nobles, but we can still help regular people look good.”

“But like… lots of people… just wear whatever,” Tiphannia said.

“Exactly. And we can do something to fix that!”

They turned a corner and almost ran into a big crowd of people standing around the town crier. Dunmer like Satheri got all their news from each other but outlanders like Quinn had to listen to whatever the criers were paid to talk about.

“… as of Fredas, honorable Bertrand Reauchamp will be retiring to Pelagiad with his wife and will pass his shop unto Clagius Clanler. This means there’s still time to take advantage of the going-away sale! Affordable work clothes, endurance potions, earthenware goods, and even glassware will be even _more_ affordable for a few more days.”

Outlander merchants always hired criers to let people know about sales. And if she wanted to let everyone know about fashion—and maybe get a few more members in the club—why couldn’t she hire a crier of her own?

“Ladies,” Quinn said. “I just got the most wonderful idea.”

*********

Drenlyn Academy had tons of people. Quinn knew that not all—face it, hardly any—had the talent to be a good town crier. But there were plenty who wanted to try and impress her and that was always fun to watch.

She stood with Satheri and Tiphannia next to the library as the last few guys in line tried out. At first she’d figured they’d just need a nice voice or something, but when she thought about the crier she’d heard yesterday she knew they had to be showy and able to keep everyone’s attention.

“Hey, Quinn!” Jonus said, standing at the front of the line with Julien and Jeval behind him. “I’m the best crier you’ll ever find.”

Everyone in the line cracked up, and Jonus blushed as red as his hair when he realized what he’d said. “I mean best _town_ crier! I never cry with tears. Ever.”

“Pick me instead,” Julien pleaded from behind him.

“Guys, don’t rush me on this! One at a time. Jonus?”

“Uh, right.” Jonus cleared his throat. “Uh, hear ye! Hear ye! I’m the guy with all the news you could want. Like, uh…”

And he was sweating, which was totally gross. The last thing the Fashion Club needed was a sweaty town crier.

“Next!” Quinn called out.

Jonus fell to his knees. “Wait! Give me one more chance,” he pleaded.

“I’m sorry, Jonus. But it wouldn’t be fair to all the other guys who want to try.”

“Out of the way, loser!” Julien said, pushing Jonus to the side. He straightened up and posed like he was on stage or something. “Hear ye, hear ye! Julien here with the news to please ye!”

Ugh, he rhymed a word with _itself_? Not even the laziest bard would do that.

“Next!”

“Aw, come on! I got this whole rhyme thing—”

“If you keep going I _won’t_ give you the chance to help me the next time I do something.”

He hung his head low and wandered off to join the other losers. “Yes, ma’am,” he said. “Sorry, ma’am.”

“Jervas!” she announced, calling up the next guy, who was maybe a bit cuter than the others.

“Jeval,” he corrected. “Uh, hey, Quinn,” he said, “so are you paying us for this?”

“Of course. I’m paying you with the chance to hang out with me.”

“And the rest of the Fashion Club,” Satheri added.

Jeval scratched the back of his neck. “Yeah, I mean like with money. Just seems that since we’re doing a job we oughtta get some, you know, cash.”

“Oh, well you’ll get lots of experience that you can use if you ever want to do it, like, for real.”

“Think I’m going to pass, then.”

That was _not_ the answer she’d expected. But Jeval had already wandered off to join his buddies in the loser’s crowd, who were making fun of him.

“You idiot!” she heard Julien say. “Quinn’s not going to pay with money.”

“Why do you care? If I’d gotten the job it’s not like that’d give you a chance with her,” Jeval protested.

Jonus stepped in. “Yeah, but at least _one_ of us could have gotten in. And then helped out his bros.”

“Whatever. If you’re good at something, don’t do it for free.”

Quinn took another look at Jeval. Was he actually good at this, or something? Next in line was…

“Oh, gross,” she whispered when she saw Karl the Unctuous at the front of the line, with that icky grin stretched across his face.

He stepped up without even being invited, which was _so_ like him, and then bowed which might have been nice from someone who could make it look courtly but just came off really weird with him. And he was overdressed for the part, with this orange silk frock coat that was so bright it kind of hurt to look at.

“Make it quick, Karl,” she said.

He put one hand on his chest and his nose in the air. “Hear ye, hear ye! Are you struggling to decide on autumn colors suitable for this drear land? Do you fear your silks are _so_ last decade? Fret not, for you will find the answer at the fashion event of a lifetime, the opportunity of a century, where Quinn Morgendorffer, maiden of reputation most sterling and the scarlet-crowned queen of the sartorial realm shall be sharing her wisdom on the best fabrics, dyes, cuts, and styles for comely young women like yourself.”

Wow. One of the key things about being popular was not to get impressed too easily. But he’d made it sound exciting. She looked to Satheri, then to Tiphannia who was staring at herself in a mirror, and then back to Satheri.

“A moment,” she said to Karl, holding out her hand. Then she whispered. “Do you think he’s going to be a creep if we hire him?”

Satheri shrugged. “He did a really good job. Maybe if we just tell him to behave himself?”

No one else was even close. “Karl, did you make that all up on the spot?”

“Extemporaneity is one of my many virtues, dear lady. Though some find my vices more interesting,” he added in a lower tone.

This was tough. Everyone hated Karl and for good reason. But no one else had been even close.

“All right, Karl, but if you get the job you have to promise not to be a creep or a loser or anything. There are rules here.”

He grinned and leaned in so close she could see all his gross pores and smell his breath. “Ooh, you’re feisty!”

Well that made her decision way easier. “And you just lost the job.”

Karl blinked, and then stepped aside.

Quinn wanted to get the ball rolling and she did _not_ have time to go through the rest. “Jeval! You said you’re good at this, right?”

“Uh, yeah.” He cleared his throat, then spoke: “Do you want to look your best this season? Well Quinn Morgendorffer can tell you how!”

Okay, it wasn’t terrible. Not as good as Karl’s but at least he said it like he meant it. And Satheri seemed all right with it, going by the expression on her face.

“Fine, you can be our crier. And I’ll pay you two septims every time you announce something.”

“Cool!” he said, as his friends wailed. “What do you want me to say?”

“Uh, that’s _your_ job.”

“Yeah, but I gotta know what you’re planning. So I can tailor the message.”

“That’s easy,” Quinn said. “We’ll be talking about fashion, duh!”

“And? Like are you going to talk about dresses? Accessories? Dyes? Trends?”

“Uh, all of that. Maybe?” But Quinn realized she had no idea.

Ugh, who thought that advertising would be so much _work_!


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Bad poets (and some good ones, to be fair) loved to pontificate on the seasons, autumn especially. But this usually meant autumn in High Rock where the leaves lit up in blazing reds and yellows before moldering on the loamy ground below. Autumn in Morrowind’s Vvardenfell District, however, meant little more than the smell of damp ash and the sight of gray clouds above brown hills.

Not that this meant too much to Daria. Her childhood home of Stirk barely had seasons at all, blessed by genial sunshine year-round. Balmora’s bleak fall weather appealed to her, particularly the rain that always washed a bit of adobe into the streets, reminding the city that nature still ruled.

Looking out the window to the dark clouds roiling above High Town’s lofty rooftops, Daria smiled and then turned her attention back to her essay on Imperial governance in Morrowind. Thunder pealed somewhere in the distance as she wrote, followed soon after by the steady patter of light rain.

Not wanting to get her essay wet, she closed the shutters and lit a second candle. An essay on a somewhat interesting subject in a pleasantly gloomy environment.

“Not bad for a Middas afternoon,” she said.

“Ugh, are you _kidding_ me? It should be sunny so people can like _do_ things,” came Quinn’s voice from behind her.

“Clearly I spoke too soon.”

Quinn walked over to her bed and put her bookbag on the mattress, before sighing and opening up her wardrobe. Daria watched out of the corner of her eye as her sister took out one dress, and then another, her brow knitted in frustration.

“What’s going on?” Daria asked. “Can’t figure out which color goes best with a tramp through the mud?”

“For your information—hey! Wait a minute.”

Daria tensed up. She did not care for the tone in Quinn’s voice. It was the tone she used whenever she got excited about some ridiculous triviality and begged mom or dad for some extra money to fritter away.

“Hey, so you’re a writer, right?” Quinn asked.

“No. While I appear to be writing an essay it’s actually an elaborate ruse concocted by mom and dad to maintain the illusion that they have a literate daughter.”

“Uh huh. So tell me what would you write if you wanted to like, I don’t know, get people involved in fashion?”

Daria sighed and put her quill back in the ink well. “Okay, out with it. What do you want?”

Quinn gasped and drew back, hand on chest for melodramatic effect. “Can’t I be curious about what my own sister gets up to?”

“No, because you know as well as I do that I’m boring. Just get to the damn point.”

She resumed her normal posture. “Okay, fine! So me and the Fashion Club thought it’d be a good idea to have like a town crier, but just for the Fashion Club so that people can know what we think about the best styles and stuff, and we hired Jeval—”

“Wait, you spent real money?”

“Well it was either him or Karl and even though Karl’s really good at speaking he’s still a creep so we went with Jeval! Anyway, we got him to do the job but now I have to figure out what kind of event to do so that people know how great we are, not that they don’t already.”

“Forget it.”

Quinn raised her eyes heavenward. “What’s a girl to do, Daria?”

“This girl,” Daria pointed at herself, “doesn’t care, and isn’t going to do anything.”

“Come on!”

“What do you want me to do, anyway? I don’t know anything about fashion.”

“Yeah, but you’re like really smart and a writer and stuff. I’m sure you could figure out something for us to do.”

“Why would I do that when I could watch you stew in the mess you created?”

“I’ll pay you.”

“Hm, well that’s different. How much are you paying Jeval?”

“Uh, half a septim for each announcement.”

Daria thought about it for a moment. “Pay me four times what you pay him.”

Quinn gave an exaggerated sigh. “Fine. So tell me, consultant, what should I do?”

Daria pushed her essay aside and opened the window back up to observe the fall of rain.

“First, why do you even want a Fashion Club crier? Other than for the attention fix.”

“Because we’re only like three girls! If we ever want to make it big, like you know, for a guild or something, we need more attention. We need people to know that _we_ know everything about fashion.”

“I see.” Daria turned to face Quinn. “On that case, you need to offer some kind of expertise. Can’t you just natter to them about dresses the way you do with your friends?”

“Well _I_ can, but the thing is Satheri and Tiphannia are just so nice, you know? Like they always want to support me and I really love that but sometimes I worry that maybe I’m making a mistake in picking out a pattern or fabric and they’re too nice to tell me I’m messing up.”

That got Daria’s attention. Every now and then, Quinn showed actual depth. She hoped it didn’t last; otherwise she might have to start respecting her sister.

“Sounds to me like you need to enlarge the Fashion Club,” she said.

“Maybe I could have Jeval say we’re going to have tryouts or something.”

Would it really work that way? The vagaries of popularity eluded Daria, but while Quinn always had a line of lovelorn guys trailing after her (and always kept at convenient distance) she didn’t really seem to have many close friends beyond Satheri and maybe Tiphannia.

Sort of like how Daria didn’t have any friends beyond Jane and maybe Jolda.

She decided not to pursue that line of thought. “Might be worth a shot.”

“But wait,” Quinn said, “People won’t want to join the Fashion Club unless we get our name out there, first. Sure, they know what the Fashion Club is, but I need to make them care about it. How do I do that?”

“Uh, give a fashion advice seminar?” Daria really had no idea, but she’d talk as long as she was getting paid.

“Hold on, Daria, did you make any friends at that Mages Guild thingie? Because if you did you could ask him to teleport over to the Imperial City and find out what’s in vogue—”

“Since when do I make friends?”

“Oh, right. Ugh, I _need_ to figure out how to get in touch with what’s going on over there! Or at least some other fashionable place. Maybe Vivec City? That’s a lot closer. For now, let me think. Autumn’s all about accessories, so the Fashion Club can give advice on that. We can give personalized advice on what kinds of accessories go best with what people like to wear!”

“Listening to that sounds like torture to me, which means it’ll probably be a big hit with everyone else.”

“You know, Daria, a sash would go really well with your dress. You could even do a brighter color, ‘cause you’re _totally_ skinny enough—”

“Stop. Or I can’t be held responsible for what happens next.”

Quinn waved her hand. “Fine, fine. Anyway, we’ll tell everyone what accessories to buy this Fredas. I think that’s a great start. Hey, wait a second! All you did was like, ask questions and prompt me and stuff. I came up with all the ideas! Coming up with ideas was _your_ job!”

Daria smirked. “What can I say? Consultancy’s a pretty good racket.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Quinn thought she’d die when the first ever Fashion Club seminar opened up on Fredas afternoon to an audience of _nobody_.

“This is terrible!” Satheri sobbed, next to her.

“There’s… no one… listening,” Tiphannia drawled.

It’s not like there weren’t people around. Practically everyone was jammed up at the gate, trying to get out. But they weren’t listening to Quinn. Ugh, this was _so_ embarrassing. She glared at Jeval.

“You need to make it sound more exciting! And go into the details,” she said.

And Quinn wasn’t so sure Jeval’s pitch had been all that great. _Style changes with the weather, and you don’t want to be left behind! Quinn Morgendorffer of the Fashion Club has the lowdown on what to wear this autumn!_

It got the information across but was just so boring!

“I don’t know anything about fashion,” Jeval said. “But I can try a different pitch next week. You gotta remember though: Fredas afternoon is a bad time for a seminar. Everyone wants to get out of Drenlyn and hang out with their friends.”

“Why didn’t you say so earlier?”

“I did!”

“I know, but you didn’t _convince_ me. Hmm, okay, so maybe this isn’t the best time. Girls!”

Satheri raised her face from her hands, her eyes filled with tears. But at least her eyes were naturally red, so she didn’t have to worry about them getting all bloodshot and gross after crying. Tiphannia just gave her the usual blank look.

“The problem here is not that we aren’t popular or that people don’t want to listen to us.”

“It… it isn’t?” Satheri said between sobs.

“Not at all. But you have to remember that the people who care about fashion are also people who are like popular, and stuff. And that means they’ve got their own thing going on after school on Fredas. It’s just like, bad timing.”

“That’s a relief,” Satheri said, still looking like she was going to cry again.

“When are we… going to do… the…” Tiphannia started.

“The seminar?” Quinn finished, because sometimes it was just such a pain waiting for Tiphannia to get to the end of a sentence. “Good question.”

“What about after school on Morndas?” Satheri suggested.

Except Jeval was right. Drenlyn was _boring_ and no one wanted to stay longer than they had to. “I think lunch might be better. We’ll get more of an audience that way.”

Satheri’s eyes got big. “But lunch is when I check up my cosmetics and that can take a really long time!”

“Uh, can I say something?” Jeval said.

“You may?”

“People aren’t going to come unless I hype it up, and I won’t have enough time to do that by Morndas. Give me a couple days. Do it at lunch on Middas, instead. And I’ll run some new copy by you, but you’ll need to help me if you want me to be more specific and stuff.”

Huh, that actually made sense. But it also meant she’d have to pay Jeval way more if he was going to announce each day. Between him and Daria she was already cutting into her fund for a new hat! Ugh, she’d already sacrificed _so_ much for the Fashion Club!

“Okay, fine. We’ll try this again next week. For now, let’s be like the popular people we are and go do something fun!”

And fun things _also_ cost money. But it’s not like she could stop now.

*********

Stress was like the _worst_ thing that could happen to Quinn’s pores! It had gotten so bad that it almost hurt to look in the mirror. She could _see_ them, like a gross version of freckles all over her face.

But if that’s the price she had to pay to get the Fashion Club the recognition it deserved, she’d just have to pay for extra lotions and ointments.

At least Jeval had been doing a pretty good job. She checked in on him during lunch and after-school announcements on Morndas, reading his new lines.

“Come one, come all, to the Fashion Club Autumn Style Seminar this Middas at noon! Worried that your frills make your wrists look fat? Not sure if that Colovian fur hat really works in Morrowind? Get those questions answered and more this Middas, courtesy of the Fashion Club!” he called out.

He sounded interested and his voice carried. Definitely enough to get attention.

But not to keep it! Everyone still walked past him, except for like one or two of the really unfashionable girls who were super insecure all the time. The Fashion Club needed to get the attention of popular people like Agrippina or Sephannia.

And that meant more work for Quinn. She didn’t have class on Tirdas but she went to Drenlyn anyway and spent all day talking to the kinds of girls people _wanted_ to hang out with. And she had Satheri do the same for Dunmer girls.

“Anyway, we’re going to have like this big thing tomorrow at lunch. Everyone knows that autumn’s a _great_ time for accessories but there are so many that it can be hard to choose!” Quinn said to some of the more popular outlander girls in Ondryn’s class.

“Ugh, I know!” Agrippina said. “I still can’t decide if I should go with some new tippets for my sleeves or a new belt.”

“Well tippets—” Quinn started.

But wait! She couldn’t give all her secrets away now! She had to save some for tomorrow. “Well tippets are totally something we’ll be talking about.”

They’d seemed pretty interested when it was all over. But what if they didn’t show up? What if it was just and Satheri and Tiphannia in front of a big empty space where no one was paying attention to them?

Quinn closed her eyes. “Think positive thoughts. You _got_ this.”

She hoped.

*********

Satheri saw Briltasi leaving school that day and breathed in. The Talori family was a respectable one, and a bigger deal in Balmora than Satheri’s own. But Satheri’s dad was really important as a Hlaalu-Empire liaison, and that meant the Rowenis were still pretty important. Plus, Briltasi liked outlanders and her stepmom was one, so she’d be okay with going to the seminar.

Probably.

“Sera Talori!” Satheri called out. “May I speak with you for a moment?”

“Huh? Oh, hi Satheri!” Briltasi smiled and gave a little wave and Satheri relaxed for a bit. Briltasi was popular but she wasn’t scary the way Synda was.

“Thank you, Sera Talori.” Satheri gathered her thoughts. Might sound weird if she were _too_ formal. “Uh, so Sera Morgendorffer is going to be holding a fashion seminar this Middas.”

Briltasi twirled one of her ponytails around her index finger. “Yeah, I heard that Bosmer guy talking about it. Jerain, I think?”

“Juval,” Satheri corrected, and then smiled. “You’re already like, totally fashionable. But we’d love to have you in the audience! If you’re there, then you can make a strong impression on some of the families of the outlander students in attendance.”

“Hmm,” she turned her head askance. “I _was_ going to ditch school. But that sounds like it might be fun. Okay!”

Satheri inclined her head. “Thank you so much, Sera Talori. My family and I are grateful.”

“Sure thing!”

Satheri breathed a sigh of relief. That had gone well.

At least when she talked to other Dunmer she always knew exactly where she stood. Muthsera Morgendorffer was great but she was tough to figure out sometimes. Quinn obviously had seniority over Satheri, but she wasn’t always sure where she stood in relation to Tiphannia. And that scared her since she didn’t want to be second-best in Quinn’s eyes.

Quinn made everything scary, but also really fun. And Satheri knew that in a few years she’d be sent to her husband-to-be in the red cliffs and yellow fungal forests of Shipal Shin, hundreds of miles to the south. And that’s be wonderful and he’d protect her and love her and make her a full part of Great House Hlaalu and she’d be happy there, finally, because she’d have a place.

But she wanted to have fun for a little longer.

Satheri noticed Nidrene Servo walking past. The Servos weren’t that notable of a family, but her dad did work for Synda’s mom, so Satheri still needed to be respectful.

“Sera Servo,” she said, walking toward Nidrene with her head held high (since she had to uphold her own family’s reputation, and they were more respectable at least by a little bit), “I’d like to talk with you for a second…”


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

This was _it_!

Okay, Quinn knew how to handle crowds. Sure, it was kind of scary when you saw a whole bunch of people all looking at you and ready to judge even the littlest mistake, but really wasn’t that just life in general?

At least it wasn’t raining. The Middas noon was bright and cool with a few cute little clouds way high up in the sky. Thanks to Jeval’s town crying, Daria’s advice, and her talking to the right people, they had a crowd. The Fashion Club stood under the big mushroom in the middle of the courtyard.

Most of the people were popular outlander girls like her but Satheri had brought in some Dunmer girls too. And some unpopular people. Daria and Jane watched from a distance, probably making some weird brainy comments. Whatever.

Synda also watched with a few of her creepy friends, over by Lli’s office. Ugh, Quinn had tried to be nice to her. She still didn’t really get what had happened between them, but they were definitely enemies now.

Quinn smoothed her long red hair, acting like nothing bothered her at all, and stepped out to the front.

“Welcome, everybody! I’m so glad you could all make it to the First Fashion Club Style Seminar! Today, we’re going to talk about autumn fashion. Now I’ve always said that autumn is totally the season for accessories, but which one? There are so many.”

She heard a bunch of “yeahs” and “oh, I knows” from the crowd. Good sign!

And now what? Her breath caught. She’d been so focused on getting things ready that she hadn’t prepped a speech. Like she thought it’d just come to her since she knew so much about fashion.

But that was the problem! There was tons to talk about. And she had to prove herself to these girls! It wasn’t like Satheri who’d always agree, or Tiphannia who never said anything.

“Uh…” she trailed off.

Her heart was beating like crazy. She couldn’t lose now. Not in front of everyone. Not with Synda watching and waiting for a mistake. But what to start with? Belts? Hats? Jewelry?

If the gods wanted to strike her with lightning this would be a _great_ time.

Or maybe the crowd could help.

“So let’s start with some questions!” Quinn announced, clapping her hands together.

Silence. Just silence.

“Anyone?”

“Yes! I have a question.”

Oh no. The girl asking was Treads-on-Ferns, the _one_ Argonian student in Drenlyn. Quinn panicked. She knew everything about fashion, but only for human and elven girls! She didn’t know how to accessorize for someone who had scales, claws, and a tail! Quinn always fell back on telling people to get hair pins when she couldn’t figure out anything else but Argonians didn’t even have hair!

“Yeah, go ahead!” Quinn said, trying to figure out if she could even help.

Treads-on-Ferns made a hissing sound. “Thanks. I want to get some jewelry for my crest,” she said, and pointed at the little spikes growing from the sides of her head. “But money is short. What sort of jewelry do you think is best for me?”

Quinn had thought of a lot of different fashion possibilities, like the best color for winter wear in each province of the Empire, even though she’d only been to three (and hadn’t really seen much of Skyrim). But she’d never thought about Argonian crests.

But wait. She looked up and down at Treads-on-Ferns. Her scales were a brilliant green, almost like emeralds, except on some parts around her neck and forearms where the scales were this amazing cobalt blue. It must be nice to have skin—er, scales—that coordinated so naturally. Something of a similar color would look great on her crest.

“Hm, I think turquoise would look great on your crest. I saw these really pretty turquoise signet rings at the market the other day.”

“Rings usually slip off,” said Treads-on-Ferns. “But I can tie the turquoise to my crest with twine. Thank you. I’ll do that.”

Quinn was still taking in more details. Treads-on-Fern’s dress was this bland beige one that was all baggy and stuff—but sometimes boring dresses made for great bases. “And if you want to add a bit more color to your wardrobe, I think you’d look great with a netch leather cloak. A little one that just goes over your shoulders and maybe halfway down your back.”

“Interesting. What color?”

“Hm, I really like the green and blue and beige you have so far, it has this natural feel which just looks _great_ for you. Maybe blue but just like a little darker than the turquoise or your scales, so it matches but still stands out.”

“I like that. Thank you.”

And everyone started murmuring. Not nasty things, but like they were impressed.

Agrippina, whose hair was done up in one of those crazy piled-high Nibenese styles that took hours to prep each morning, raised her hand. She was popular, and just started speaking.

“How long should my scarf be?” she asked.

And Quinn already had an idea.

“That really depends on what statement you’re trying to make. A short scarf can be really stylish, but a longer one adds some mystery…”

*********

Muthsera Morgendorffer was a genius!

The seminar had been perfect. Everyone had loved Quinn and _of_ course they had, she’d looked like some kind of glorious saint from the old days telling everyone how best to live. And Satheri was _her_ best friend! Or one of her best, anyway.

Now they’d be popular. Even more popular, that is. And it got better! Over the next few days, she saw people come to school wearing the accessories Quinn recommended. Treads-on-Ferns had turquoise tied to those weird horns of hers and Agrippina got a long red moth-silk scarf with a fringe at the end just like Quinn had said.

“We should do another one next week!” Quinn said after school that Fredas. The whole Fashion Club had gone to the Glass Crown, a little cornerclub for girls like them right next to Saint Roris Square. A whole bunch of rice wine had come in from Cyrodiil and was being sold for cheap, so they’d bought a bottle of the stuff, just like what rich Nibenese ladies drank in the capital.

“I think that’s a great idea!” Satheri said.

“What should it be about? We already did accessories.”

Satheri thought about it. Maybe fabrics? You had to keep warm during the winter but you didn’t want to just get wrapped up in ugly guar-hide like some Ashlander.

“Maybe fabrics?” she said, and right away wished she hadn’t. Quinn probably already had a better idea.

“That’s a great idea, Satheri! Fabrics and layers are really important and now that it’s getting cold everyone needs to know a way to stay warm _and_ look good.”

Satheri smiled and went slack with relief. Quinn had liked it.

Through a narrow window she watched a herder lead a line of guars through the marketplace, their claws clicking against the paving stones. The scaly beasts reminded her of Treads-on-Ferns. Not that Argonians were animals, or anything, she thought to herself with a bit of guilt.

They (well, Quinn, really) settled on doing the layering seminar next Middas so it could be a regular thing. All the same steps as before: Jeval making announcements, Quinn telling the outlander girls and Satheri telling the Dunmer girls.

“This time they might do some of the talking for us since we’ve already proven we offer great advice,” Quinn said.

“We really do!” Satheri agreed.

And it was so exciting! Kind of scary, too. Satheri couldn’t make any mistakes when Quinn was so invested, and she got so worried that she ran to her room to cry once she got home. What if she screwed up? Life was so much simpler before the seminar.

What if Quinn found out about that party in the country last month, where Satheri had burned a bunch of heather flowers and Synda told her burning those flowers meant she hated outlanders? That’d be it. Quinn would cut her off, and so would Tiphannia, and she’d never have a friend again until she moved. And who knew what her future husband would be like?

Drenlyn was the only time she’d have fun in her entire life and she couldn’t lose that!

Yet Morndas came and she had a job to do. Maybe start with Briltasi. She was always nice so it wouldn’t be too scary to tell her about it.

It was early in the morning and she’d just spotted Briltasi coming through the gates. She stepped forward—

“Satheri. A moment of your time.”

Her heart sank at the voice: commanding, certain, and petulant. It was Synda. Satheri breathed in and turned to face the girl.

“Uh, of course, Sera Grilvayne,” she said, keeping her head low. Synda’s eyes were so intense that it kind of hurt to look right at them; easier to keep her gaze on the floor, and probably more respectful since the Grilvaynes had been prestigious for a really long time.

“Walk with me.”

Synda led her out of Drenlyn and into the crowded street.

“Quinn has certainly been making an impact on local fashion,” Synda said.

“She really has been.”

“I think it’s getting to her head.”

Satheri gulped and tried to hide her head between her shoulders. Oh no, what if Quinn saw her talking like this? Or heard about it? Her heart kicked into overdrive and her vision blurred.

Synda kept talking. “How will I uphold my own honor and secure my future if I simply let some outlander act so high and mighty?”

“But she’s not doing that at all, Synda! She’s just giving—”

Synda made a cutting gesture with her hand. “It’s time to take a stand. Outlanders have their uses, but they need to remember their place. Quinn has clearly forgotten hers. Thus, I am forming the Haute Society to ensure that there is an alternative to Quinn’s ideas. And you will be a part of it.”

“I’m already part of the Fashion Club!” Satheri protested.

“We don’t need to make it official.” Synda stopped and turned to face Satheri, grabbing her shoulders and looking right into her eyes. Satheri shrank back but couldn’t break free. Her knees wobbled.

“We are both Dunmer, Satheri. And I _will_ look out for you. When I see you, I remember the girl who so bravely burned those disgusting heather flowers at Serjo Ules’s birthday party.”

“But I didn’t know what that meant! I thought they were just flowers until you told me they’re supposed to be outlanders—”

Satheri heard herself starting to blubber, like she did when she forgot to buy everything on mom’s shopping list and mom got madder the more Satheri cried. She wished she was more like Quinn, who was strong and sure the way a Dunmer was supposed to be even though she was an Imperial.

“Whether you knew it or not, you still did it. I’m going to break Quinn’s hold on Drenlyn and you’re going to help.”

It felt like Synda’s gaze was burning a hole into Satheri’s forehead. She wanted to break free and run.

“Quinn’s my friend,” Satheri said, speaking so low she almost couldn’t hear herself.

“You only think she is. Human girls are fickle. What do you think Quinn would do if I told her about those flowers you burned?”

“You wouldn’t!”

“Absolutely. I’d _never_ betray confidence like that. But supposing someone did tell her, do you really think Quinn would still be your friend afterward?”

“I… I don’t know.”

“Exactly. That’s why you should only trust other Dunmer. We stick together. Here’s what’s going to happen: the Haute Society will be holding its own seminar this Middas, at the same time as the Fashion Club. I don’t want any interference from Quinn, so make sure she does not trouble me.”

“I couldn’t—”

“Satheri, this is an opportunity. Not just for you, but for your family. I’ll certainly tell my mother who supported me in this endeavor, and your support can only improve your father’s standing. Going against me on the other hand, well, I don’t think I need to spell it out. Now listen closely…”


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Middas came, and Quinn just couldn’t wait. She ducked out of Instructor Benniet’s class early (it was _super_ boring anyway) to clear her head.

The whole layering thing was really just a theme. People could ask about anything they wanted. But she still wanted to go over her ideas. Thin moth-silk almost always worked as a second layer over thicker fabrics like wool or flax, but guar-hide also worked great if a girl wanted a bit more variety in texture.

Around her other students were heading out of their classes. She saw Jeval hurrying over to the courtyard, where he’d make one last announcement to remind everyone. He shouted _really_ loud which Quinn was happy with.

Except there were two Dunmer guys in fancy western clothes standing in his usual spot next to the gate. She’d never seen them before, and they looked _way_ too old to be students. One of them carried a long brass horn.

But Jeval was a pro. He took his position and opened his mouth. Quinn loved hearing the announcements and smiled, ready to hear her name shouted out to everyone in school.

“Today at lunch! Get the—”

The blast of a horn drowned out his voice. Jeval clamped his hands over his ears; the poor guy had been right next to the Dunmer who’d blown it. And worse, the horn had gotten everyone’s attention.

“Oh no,” Quinn said, suddenly getting a really bad feeling.

“Uh, today at lunch—” Jeval tried another time.

And that jerk horn player blasted over him again! No way was it an accident. Okay, well if that dumb hornist wanted the most popular girl in Drenlyn to yell at him, he’d get that. Quinn started toward him.

“Hey, could you stop that?” Jeval said. “I gotta make this announcement.”

The second Dunmer guy shoved him to the side. Quinn halted. This was getting weird. Now the horn player was playing out a tune of some sort. Then he stopped and spoke:

“Hereby announcing the first meeting of the Haute Society, led by honored Sera Synda Grilvayne!”

And that’s when Synda walked out onto the courtyard with a bunch of her Dunmer friends. They were all wearing these dark thick moth-silk gowns, the kind you’d _never_ go shopping in but might wear to a funeral or something.

“Come one, come all! You have fashion questions, and I have fashion answers. What’s more, I know exactly what the wealthiest and most respectable ladies of Vivec City will be wearing this winter—my cousin, Bronosa Nedalor, lives in the Hlaalu Canton there.”

She already had a big crowd. And it looked like all of the Dunmer girls were there right at the front, except for Satheri and Jane.

She kept going. “Dark colors will definitely be in. You won’t want to be wearing anything bright if you or your families get invited to any Hlaalu parties. Remember: image is _everything_.”

“Where can we get the right dress for this winter?” Agrippina asked.

“Good question. The key to dressing for Hlaalu events is to know the right people. I would not recommend just any dressmaker’s store…”

As she kept talking in that snooty voice of hers, Tiphannia and Satheri finally showed up.

“Guys! Do you see this? Synda’s totally stealing our seminar!” Quinn fumed.

“I can’t believe… she thinks… she can get away… with this,” Tiphannia said. At least she was paying attention, or as much attention as she ever did.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, Quinn,” Satheri said.

“We have to do something!”

Satheri gave an apologetic shrug. “Maybe we shouldn’t?”

“Huh?”

“Muthsera Morgendorffer,” Satheri said, looking down at her shoes, “the Grilvaynes are like _really_ influential in Great House Hlaalu. And I’m scared if you go against her, well, it might hurt my family.”

Satheri looked up and she was crying. Which wasn’t that weird actually, since she cried about _everything_.

“Please? We don’t need seminars to have fun. It can just like it was in the old days. Because if you pick a fight with her, it’s going to hurt me, too.”

“Hurt like how?” Quinn asked.

“I don’t know. Like they might ostracize daddy, and even though he works with the Empire it might get harder for him to work with Great House Hlaalu. And if it gets bad enough my betrothed might decide not to marry me and—”

Suddenly Satheri just grabbed the front of her dress and pulled her close, and her face was all weird with her eyes huge and her teeth clenched really tight.

“Please! I can’t afford this!”

Quinn didn’t even know where to start.

“Wow… that much stress… will give you wrinkles,” Tiphannia said.

Thanks for that, Quinn thought, and wondered what was wrong with Tiphannia.

But poor Satheri looked like she was about to fall apart. Quinn remembered how Turimar had threatened to put her family in the poorhouse. And maybe he’d have done it if the Morag Tong hadn’t taken care of him.

Plus, even though Quinn kind of hated to think it, Satheri was kind of a wimp. And she liked protecting her because Satheri was just so sweet all the time, but it was kind of a lot to deal with, too. Putting Satheri through that would be a problem for Quinn, too.

Even though she kind of wished Satheri would stand up for her a little more.

“Calm down, Satheri.”

Satheri let go and then fell at Quinn’s feet. “Thank you, Muthsera Morgendorffer. I’m sorry, I don’t mean to get in the way, but thank—”

“Come on, come on! Get up, we have reputations to maintain!” Quinn said. And they totally did, even if Synda was hogging all the attention. Crying was great when it made a guy feel sorry for you, or maybe at one of those big confession and reconciliation moments. But you just looked clingy if you did it too much.

Jeval showed up. “Hey, Quinn. Sorry about that, but you saw what happened.”

“It’s okay, Jeval,” she said. “I think we’ll be putting the seminars on hold. We accomplished what we wanted.”

“What did we want?” Tiphannia asked.

“You know, to make sure everybody knew about us! And unlike Synda, we didn’t need a noisy trumpeter or some snooty relative in Vivec! After school we should celebrate by going out the Glass Crown. All on me, girls.”

But just saying those words left a gross taste in her mouth! She’d worked so hard and done everything right. She’d given _her_ money to Jeval and Daria, answered everyone’s questions, and even given fashion advice that people followed.

All that work undone because Synda had connections that Quinn never would. Oh, she was mad. She wanted to yell and scream until everything went her way. But getting really mad was like crying: you had to do it at the right time.

“That sounds… great…” Tiphannia said.

“Thanks, Muthsera Morgendorffer. I’d love to go,” Satheri said. She was smiling through her tears but still had kind of a crazy look in her eyes.

“Can I get hazard pay for today?” Jeval asked.

“Jeval, you didn’t even finish the announcement.” Quinn sighed. “I’ll give you half pay.”

He raised his finger and opened his mouth but didn’t say anything. Then he let his hand fall and breathed out.

“Yeah, okay, I’ll take it.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Normally, Daria loved to see her sister taken down a peg. But when she saw Synda challenge the Fashion Club she could only remember the pain. The pain of old blows echoed through her nerves and bones; she heard the crunch of her old glasses beneath Synda’s booted feet.

First, she hyperventilated. Then she tried to figure out what to do.

The problem was that Quinn still had no idea that Synda was quite capable of violence—or at least of hiring thugs to do violence for her. Daria’s fears wrapped around each other as her mind concocted one disaster after another. Thugs waylaying her or Quinn to finish the job or burning down the Morgendorffer house. She needed some way to dissuade Quinn, to get her to step down.

She feigned feeling ill and went home early. Once there, she plopped down on her bed and tried _not_ to think about the attack.

So of course that’s _all_ she thought about. She was trapped in her own skull, in the memories of pain.

And the longer she waited, the more likely Quinn would escalate. She should have stayed at Drenlyn to keep an eye on things. Not much of an older sister if she went home to sulk. But at that moment she was scared to be anywhere else. There was a sense of safety in the thick adobe walls.

But only an illusory one.

Later in the afternoon, hearing Quinn’s footsteps coming up the stairs, Daria realized she still didn’t have a plan.

“It’s so unfair!” Quinn shouted the moment she came in. “You saw what happened today, right?”

“I sure did,” Daria said, trying to sound like she just didn’t give a damn. Maybe a display of apathy would make Quinn give up.

Make Quinn give up and hide her confidence so she became the conformist she pretended to be. Daria’s stomach twisted.

“After all that work I did—that _we_ did, ‘cause you helped!” Quinn said.

“If you want me to go up against Synda, my rates are going way up.”

Quinn sat on her bed, arms crossed and her face flushed with anger. “Right, I get it. You don’t care about anything.”

“Trust me, it’s way easier.” Daria’s words left a bitter taste in her mouth. She _wanted_ to tell Quinn the truth. But that might put her in danger.

“Well I do care about things. The only reason I can’t do anything is because Synda’s family is like super-important or something, and if I help her it might get Satheri’s family in trouble. Like Turimar tried to get _us_ in trouble.”

“So you’re not planning on doing anything?” And abstaining to defend a friend, no less.

What if Quinn really was just better than her?

“I don’t know. This makes me so mad,” Quinn said.

“Yeah,” Daria said. “It’s pretty enraging.”

Quinn gave her a quizzical look. “I thought you didn’t care.”

“It’s not that.” Daria weighed her options. She wanted to tell someone. The attack still hurt—it hurt every day, every time she was alone on the streets. Not knowing if Synda would send her thugs a second time, being afraid to even be in Synda’s shadow.

But she couldn't tell anyone.

"Think about Turimar," Daria said. "Seemed like a great guy, until he wasn't, but everyone still loved him even though he didn't exactly make a secret of being a jerk."

"I remember."

"Synda's a bit like that. And like Turimar, she has power."

"Okay, so let's knock her down a peg!"

"It's not that simple. Remember how you felt when Turimar threatened you? Because Shurimam influence goes a lot farther than Morgendorffer influence? It's kind of like that with Synda."

Quinn looked doubtful. "So Satheri tells me that the Grilvaynes are powerful, but not _that_ powerful. Satheri knows a lot about this stuff, Daria. It's like her whole world."

"Well," Daria said, "how can Satheri be sure? Remember that time Synda tried to trick you into going into that Camonna Tong hideout? That's a pretty sure sign that she has friends in low places who might be willing to do some pretty brutal things to us."

Quinn shook her head. "No way. That was just like Synda trying to trick me into going into a bad place, but it's not one where she had any connection. Satheri told me that the Grilvaynes don't hang out with the Camonna Tong anyway. They aren't the right kind of family."

Daria hesitated. She didn't think much of Satheri—but Satheri had grown up in this kind of environment. Jane, for all her street smarts, was almost as much of an outsider as Daria.

Had Synda _lied_ to Daria about hiring Camonna Tong thugs? 

But the pain of the memory cut through anything else, and Daria shook her head. "Look, you've already had one close call with Synda. Don't try for another."

Quinn drew herself up. "So what then? Just keep on retreating? Is that how we won an empire, Daria? Giving up whenever someone said something mean to us?"

"You're not Tiber Septim and Synda isn't some pushover!"

"Well not with that attitude! Daria, is there something you're not telling me."

Yes. Tons of things.

But Synda's warning echoed in her mind. Maybe this would be it, Daria thought. Quinn would just go her own way and not really tangle with Synda any longer.

"Just remember what I told you," Daria said, taking a random book from her desk and opening it up. "And if it comes crashing down on your head, don't blame me."

"Fine, I won't!"

As Daria's eyes rolled over the text without taking any of it in, she prayed that it would end with this.

*********

Daria sucked at lying.

Which was weird, because she was all creative and stuff. But only on paper. When she was talking, you could always tell.

Quinn didn’t have any classes that day so she’d gone off to the market to buy a kwama egg for the evening meal. She didn't usually think about the stuff her sister said, but she'd sounded scared the other night. Of what, Synda?

Okay, so Synda had almost tricked her into going into that sketchy tavern. But it's not like the Camonna Tong would have done anything more than yell at her to get out. They were dangerous but they couldn't just go around bullying citizens anymore, not with the Legion camped nearby. And she knew that in Hlaalu, only the sketchiest or most powerful families hung out with the Camonna Tong. Boring business families like Synda's didn't go anywhere near them.

The whole thing had stressed her out. Quinn hated being by herself. But hanging out with Satheri and Tiphannia didn’t always help. They were there, except not really. 

She’d always known Balmora would be way different from Stirk. But it hadn’t seemed so bad. Like anywhere else, you just had to learn what to say to be popular. But it was more dangerous here, even if it wasn't as bad as Daria thought. And it's not like Quinn could hide herself away that Daria did. People _loved_ Quinn. Like practically everyone who mattered had gone to the seminar, and even followed her advice.

Quinn spotted Hlero the egg merchant at that dinky little stand he always sold eggs from and got in line. That’s when she saw Treads-on-Ferns walking past with a big sack full of something slung over her shoulder. She was still wearing the turquoise in her crest.

“Hi,” Quinn said, waving.

“Hi, Quinn,” Treads-on-Ferns said. “Thanks again for answering my question the other day.”

“Yeah,” and it felt really good to remember but kind of hurt, too. “I guess Synda’s the new expert though.”

Treads-on-Ferns shook her head. “I know better than to ask her. To tell you the truth, Quinn, I was trying to put you in a hard spot. Most people don’t like to think that we People of the Root still care about looking good. They think we’re just lizards. But you did a good job, and even thought about my scales.”

Huh, she hadn’t expected that. But it seemed like a compliment—it was just kind of hard to tell because her face was so different. “Well of course! You have like the prettiest scales, so it only makes sense to want to emphasize the colors. It’s like what I do with my hair.”

“I don’t know much about hair, but I guess that makes sense. Anyway, I’m sorry that Synda’s Haute Society took over.”

“Oh, that’s no big deal. Seminars are _so_ last week, anyway.” Quinn thought about it for a second. Treads-on-Ferns wasn’t popular. In fact, Quinn wasn’t sure that she had friends at all.

But at least she gave her opinion. Tiphannia was always off in la-la land and Satheri was too scared to say anything. And if the Fashion Club was going to be for all Tamriel, she needed to get some Beastfolk perspectives, too.

“You know, Treads-on-Ferns, we _are_ looking for new members.”

Treads-on-Ferns looked like she was thinking about it. At least Quinn was pretty sure she was.

“What would I have to do?”

“Oh, you know, stay up to date on fashion. But that’s like super-easy since we spend all our time in the market anyway. And it’d be great to have you if we ever do seminars again.”

She made another hissing sound, which was sort of scary but probably meant to be friendly. “Okay, I’m up for that.”

“Great! I, Quinn Morgendorffer, formally accept you, Treads-on-Ferns, as the fourth member of the Fashion Club!”

“Are your friends going to be okay with that?”

“Oh, totally! We’re like super-supportive. Anyway, we’ll be having a meeting tomorrow after school so you can get to know everybody.”

“Great. I’ll be there,” Treads-on-Ferns said. “I should probably get these ash yams back to my parents. See you tomorrow.”

“See you!”

She waved as Treads-on-Ferns left the market. So maybe it wasn’t a total loss after all. Sure, Treads-on-Ferns wasn’t popular or anything but maybe that didn’t matter so much. In a place like Morrowind you needed whatever friends you could find.

**The End**


End file.
